


Collateral Damage

by asuralucier



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dark, Dubious Consent, Hallucinations, Implied Munchausen by Proxy, M/M, Murder Husbands, Post canon, There is Something Wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-12 00:43:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20162854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asuralucier/pseuds/asuralucier
Summary: Will recuperates after the events of the finale. Hannibal, oddly and not, proves himself a most attentivenursedoctor.





	Collateral Damage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [demitas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/demitas/gifts).

> [Exit Wounds](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WfnBF-A_M68) by The Romanovs was so delightfully creepy. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> With profound thanks to my beta, ictus!

It's nearly always the same. But it doesn’t get better. At times, the taste of salt on his tongue, the unrelenting press of the dark waves against his bones, is more real than any terror that clings to him in his waking -

“Will,” a voice, muddled by the ocean in his ears. “Will, you have to come back to me. You’re safe now. Everything’s all right. I’m counting to five, and you have to come back to me.”

One.

Two.

He thinks he might die. Today, right now. In the dark. He opens his mouth to say something that doesn’t need to be said; maybe something like: “Fucking help me.”

Three.

Four.

Five.

“Will, open your eyes.”

When Will Graham wakes - opens his eyes, he is immediately disoriented by the bright light spilling into the room. The smell of salt is still tangible when he inhales, but it’s not as if the salinity of the water, the dark, living water, is anywhere in sight. Darkness is nowhere to be found.

Will retches, as if his throat has a mind of its own. Immediately, a glass bowl is placed into his hands like it’s a natural extension of his own body. He spits into it and tries to breathe. It’s harder than it sounds.

“Will? Will, talk to me.”

Will stares at his phlegmy spit clinging to the side of the pristine glass. “This is a mixing bowl.”

“It is,” Hannibal assents with a nod. He looms over Will, upright, but also still a shadow of his former self. Interposed against the rays of oppressive sun, he looks like he’s about to disappear, too.

“I’ve committed some sort of cardinal sin, haven’t I, Dr. Lecter?”

Hannibal smiles; he looks tired too, as if he’s been more concerned with keeping vigil over Will the last few nights, feverish and mad. “You are not very well, Will. That’s my first priority, to make sure you’re better.” He looks at the contents of the glass mixing bowl and moves to take it out of Will’s grasp again. “Until then, you’re living in the land of exception.”

Will sighs, he sinks back into the pillows and finds no reprieve. “Some exception.”

Hannibal ignores this jab, and goes to fetch Will his glasses. After that, he goes and gets Will a fresh glass of water and drops a tablet into Will’s open palm.

“What’s this?” The tablet is unmarked and unremarkable. Will feels Hannibal’s eyes on him as he studies it. 

“It will help you sleep,” Hannbal says. “It takes a couple of hours to kick in. Why don’t we take a walk? You look like you could use some sun. It will do you a world of good.”

“Speak for yourself,” Will snorts. He stares at the pill in his hand for a moment longer before swallowing it resolutely with a gulp of water. The water is cold and clear, a godsend to his sweltering body.

They’ve ended up in one of those seaside resort towns. It’s the height of summer which means everyone looks a bit hungover and wilted. Will looks just like anyone else. Hannibal doesn’t, but that’s not exactly something they talk about, plus the man doesn’t look concerned.

The smell of the sea is overwhelming, but every time Will feels his legs threatening to buckle out from underneath, Hannibal hauls him back up. “Is it the smell, Will?”

“And the people, and the sun,” Will shuts his eyes. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“It’s almost over,” Hannibal says. “Come, we’ll get something to eat.”

A waitress comes over to take their order and Hannibal orders for both of them. The waitress looks at Will, who probably looks just about terrible as he feels.

“He’s fine,” Hannibal smiles at her. It’s the sort of smile that she should run away from but she’s got a job to do. “I swear on it. I’m a doctor.”

“His doctor?”

“Yeah sure,” Will says. “My doctor.”

“I’ve never been on holiday with my doctor before,” the waitress says gamely and scribbles something on her pad. “Must be handy.”

Hannibal orders a piece of grilled plaice drizzled over with some kind of warm vinaigrette. Will gets a salad. Hannibal opines that it’s not so good for Will to eat too much all in one go. Gluttony doesn’t look kindly dressed on anyone.

Will blinks; he looks away from Hannibal’s plate and turns his gaze back to his own salad. The flesh of the fish still seems to be moving, writhing, coming alive. His salad isn’t looking too hot either, the leaves tired, verging on rotten, overrun with ants. Will looks around for a food safety certificate and doesn’t find one. 

“...Something wrong, Will?”

“There are maggots crawling out of your fish,” Will points. “And there are ants in my salad. I’m not hungry.”

“I don’t see anything,” Hannibal says and cuts a piece of his fish; the chunk he comes away with is especially meaty and Will can’t - watch.

“Close your eyes if you can’t stand to look, Will. You have to eat something.”

The modest vacation villa that Hannibal has managed to procure for them under a false name has a little pool out back. The water looks dirty, and the obtrusive smell of chlorine fills Will’s nose. The only good thing about it is that his memory of drowning in the sea is growing less and less.

Hannibal lets Will lie down, but he insists that Will has to do it outside. Soak in the sun.

“What if I die of sunstroke?” Will says, “It’s very hot. My heart feels like it’s beating fast, about to burst.”

“Let me see,” Hannibal undoes the buttons on Will's shirt, mostly soaked through with sweat and presses two fingers to Will’s pulse. His fingers are wonderfully cool, as if nothing touches him. “You feel fine. I’ll fetch you some water.”

“I thought you said the pills were supposed to help me sleep,” Will says.

“Insomnia is a rare side effect of this medication or so I am told.” Hannibal runs a hand through Will’s hair, almost as if he’s shushing an agitated dog. “And maybe that’s better for you, anyway, is it not? You won’t dream. Or drown.”

“Maybe I’ll go drown myself in the pool,” Will glances up at him and Hannibal’s fingers stutter near his temple. “Could do it first thing tomorrow.”

“Don’t do that,” Hannibal says. “Please. I only want you to rest.”

Hannibal says please, mostly because it’s a matter of decorum. It’s a different beast when the word is beaten out of his mouth, when the word is inescapable from his own person.

“I’ll get better,” Will says, looking at Hannibal square in the eyes. There’s no question about it.

"One day," Hannibal agrees and bends to kiss him on the temple; Will leans into the touch. Hannibal appears now to Will, aside from the monster that he is and will always be, as the very picture of gratitude.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [salt and brine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20572268) by [ictus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ictus/pseuds/ictus)
  * [Podfic: 'Collateral Damage' by asuralucier](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23966212) by [peasina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peasina/pseuds/peasina)


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